


In the Eye Of the Beholder: Philosophical Debate

by Kittycatkyla23



Series: Eye of the Beholder Snipits [2]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Dante's Inferno elements, POV First Person, Short One Shot, Sins, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 16:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20294293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittycatkyla23/pseuds/Kittycatkyla23
Summary: There are two sides to every coin that is a sin—‘cept for betrayal and limbo. There’s nothing redeemable about betrayal and limbo. Betrayal is the most damaging thing one can do to a person that trusted them and limbo is where all the sheep’s who can’t develop an original thought go. The seven deadly sins have a positive and negative side, both can be considered a sin.





	In the Eye Of the Beholder: Philosophical Debate

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This fic plays a lot of devils advocate on some controversial topics and all statements made by the characters do not speak on my personal views on the subjects. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, but please and thank you's, keep it civil.

“Here’s your shit.” I put a folder on the table.

The bastard known as Orihara Izaya smiled at me.

“You’re paying for lunch, yeah?” I sat down. We were outside, in front of a breakfast café. He already had a coffee in front of him.

“I can, yes.”

“Good.”

“Of course, I can dock it from your pay.”

“Don’t you fucking dare. I did my part, I wanna get paid in full.”

He chuckled. “I was just joking.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes. A waitress came over. She offered me a menu. I took it and started scanning. “I’ll have a strawberry jet tea.”

She smiled, made some idol confirmation. Then she was off.

“Do you want something to eat?” Izaya asked.

“Not here. I want a burger.”

“You’re quite the carnivore.”

I rolled my eyes again. “Do you always say stupid shit?”

“My clients pay high prices for my ‘stupid shit’.”

“Well, I don’t. You’re paying me and I don’t want to hear it.”

Izaya chuckled again. He said nothing, however, and instead grabbed the folder. He opened it and pulled out the papers. He sifted through the papers. It seemed like he was reading—despite how quick he was going through the pages—as his eyes flicked left to right across.

“Why do you write in English?” Izaya asked.

“Because I can.”

“Isn’t it hard?”

“No.”

“Well, English is the second hardest language in the world. Japanese is the first. To know both, to the extent that you can write such a detailed report, is quite an impressive feat.”

“Isn’t that pointless for you to say when you can read it all without question?”

“Well, you’re just a civilian. So, it’s unexpected.”

“_You’re _a civilian. Don’t try to sound like you’re something more important than you are.”

“There are many people who wouldn’t consider me a civilian.”

“Then they’re fucking retarded. To be a civilian is a very black-and-white concept. Either you have a social security and a legal ID in the country you reside in, or you’re an illegal immigrant or a foreigner on visit. There is no in between.”

“Then what do you think about illegal immigrants that are born in the country? They are considered a citizen of the country because they were born on that soil.”

“Until it’s found out they’re illegal. Their parents weren’t able to take their child to the courthouse to get them a social security. A birth certificate is small in comparison to a social.”

“That’s very cruel, don’t you think?”

“It is cruel but it’s the law. It’s not the government’s fault your parents damned you. If anything, those kids should blame their parents for coming into a country illegally. To do that is dangerous and a huge shock to a person’s system—to be surrounded by people who aren’t like you; who you can’t even talk to because of a language barrier—and you’re going to take a child, an infant, into that kind of situation is irresponsible and reckless endangerment.”

“But what if, the situation in their country was so bad that a parent believed it was the best idea to take their child to another country? To cross a border illegally is not such a simple thing. It is very dangerous and once they arrive, it is a culture shock, as you said. But many people are willing to do that because they believe their child can have a better life. That they have no choice.”

“I get they have their reasons. But there are legal ways of doing things for a reason. Laws are in place for a reason and to break the law is not right. If you want to become a citizen, then fucking work for it. Get your green card, work up the money to get over the border and fucking work to get a citizenship. It’s safer, more reliable, and your children will be better off. They’ll be able to go to school, to have a roof over their head that isn’t a garage of some local that’s taking pity on you, and they’ll be able to get a job that’ll be protected by the labor laws—thus, they won’t get raped by their employers, fired without reasoning, fired without a final pay—or being separated from their parents if you get caught.”

“It takes money to do something like that. And many of these illegal immigrants are moving countries because they’re not making enough money to survive off of.”

“That’s unfortunate, but it’s not the governments problem.”

Izaya chuckled. “Many people would call you ‘privileged’.”

“Oh, piss up with that shit. I’ve been homeless. I’ve lived in low income for years and didn’t see a way out for the longest time. I struggled to pay rent and sometimes it came down to paying rent or buying groceries. I survived off of cup-of-noodles and protein juices. I worked a fucking dead-end dishwashing job for years getting payed minimum wage. I’m not privileged. I struggled, fought, and worked my ass off to get to where I am now. To be ‘privileged’ is to have a job because you want one, not because you need one. To be ‘privileged’ is to have someone paying your bills for you. I’m not fucking privileged. I just know how to work.”

“You were homeless?”

I glowered. That’s what he took away from that?

Well, since he didn’t continue the argument, I can only assume that he didn’t have another argument to add.

“Yeah.” I continued. “I ended up spending the winter sleeping in my car. It was really hard, and I made it worse since I had a cat. I’ve had that cat since I was thirteen, and I still have her now. But during that time, it was really hard on us. She’s got abandonment issues now. I left her with my cousin until I could find a place for us to stay and the next day, she pissed and shat over everything my cousin owned until I came to get her. She was pretty obedient, despite me not training her to be like that. I’d let her out of the car to use the restroom and she’d come right back in without exploring. It was so cold that winter that she would cuddle with me under the blanket. She still sleeps with me under the blankets, so I have to have the Air Con in my room, else she’ll broil over while we sleep. We’re all better now but it was a hard three months.”

“How did you end up going from homeless to PI?”

“I still had a job. As I said, I was working as a dishwasher before I became homeless. My cousin let me take showers and do my laundry at his place—he couldn’t let me stay because he was letting his toxic Dad, my uncle, and new wife with two babies stay with him. They were crackheads that always used others, playing the whole ‘I’m your father; without me, you wouldn’t be here, so you owe me’ bullshit. There was no room for me.

“Anyway,” I went on, “since I was homeless, I could save my money up. All I had to buy was cat food, food for myself, and gas. I applied for a low-income apartment and they finally got ahold of me in March. I had the money to move in immediately. I worked that dishwashing job for another three years until we got new management and he was a profound thunder-cunt, so I quit with only a week’s notice. It’s funny, too. Cuz there was only one other dishwasher besides me who only worked two days a week—not because he didn’t want the hours but because thunder-cunt wouldn’t give them to him. When I quit, thunder-cunt posted a sign-up sheet, basically asking other employees to take my shift instead of giving the other dishwasher my fucking hours. Huge display of disrespect. No one signed up—obviously, a fucking cashier isn’t going to want to go to the bottom of the fucking totem—so thunder-cunt ended up having to give the other dishwasher the hours. But the other dishwasher was wronged, and he knew it, so he quit two weeks after I did. Thunder-cunt went three fucking months without a dishwasher, hiring on useless temp workers who were only there for a week at the most so they could never learn the job and become useful. I went back to the place a while later and seeing shit-head manager washing dishes because no one else would was fucking glorious.”

The waitress returned so I stopped talking. She put my jet tea down, I said thanks, and she left. I took a sip. It was delicious.

“But anyway, back to how I went from homeless to PI.” I messed with the straw, lifting it in and out of my drink to churn up the whipped cream into the slush. “There was a cop who would always drive by my car back then. Kuzuhara-san would check on me, make sure I was okay. He’d drive by three times a night, at least. I was always subconsciously aware of it—like it would wake me up enough to register he was there, then I’d go back to sleep. When I got my apartment, I gave him a call. He was happy for me. We ended up becoming pretty good friends. I dated his niece for a while. Shinju, she’s a police officer too. Through some…well, let’s just say I have a keen eye. Shinju said I would make a great cop and I should go through cop academy. Couldn’t afford that and shut her down. After a conversation, she put me on the path of a private investigator. Kuzuhara-san helped me too.”

“Your ‘keen eye’. Is that your way of saying you solved some of Shinju-san’s cases for her?”

I just shrugged. To release that information may cause problems for Shinju, so I decided to keep quiet.

“Does Shinju-san and Kuzuhara-san know you can see auras?”

I glowered. “No. That’s why Shinju and I broke up. She kept questioning how I came across the information I came across. At one point, she suspected me of being in cahoots with them and ratting them out to make my career. She did an investigation against me but came up with nothing to incriminate me. I don’t blame her, but I obviously can’t trust her after that, so I broke up with her.”

“Technically, it’s you that can’t be trusted. She wouldn’t have suspected you if you had told her the truth.”

“She wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“Have you told anyone before?”

“…That’s how I ended up homeless. I told a friend, someone I knew since grade school. We were living together at that time, got a place together and everything. She ended getting a boyfriend and he was one of those cunts that was threatened by other men around his girl. He was constantly looking through her phone to see who she was texting, she wasn’t allowed to see her parents because her dad didn’t like him, and I wasn’t allowed to sit in the living room if he wasn’t there to monitor us. He was one of those fucking scruby, paranoid fuckboys. What’s even worse is she knew all of this and was okay with it. Like, literally, I told her that he was looking through her phone and was trying to separate her from her family and she responded with ‘I know’! I _fucking _know!”

I glowered up at the sky as I was obviously starting to get heated.

“She had always been the type to change for her man, but I thought she had _some _form of dignity. Anyway, I ended up telling her, and I told her her boyfriend’s sins. She told him. The next day he called me a sociopath, told me I needed to get professional help, and to get the fuck out. I did and a few days later, I went back to get my stuff. He accused me of stealing and refused to let me in the house. I had to get a civil standby. Lucky for me, my friend was a fucking pushover, so I talked to her instead of him and she let me in. Most of my shit was broken, like my TV and my papers. Those papers were important to me, photo albums, stories my mom had written, and he dumped it out in the snow. I got everything I could and got the hell out. Lucky for me, I didn’t unpack too much of my boxes. I never liked unpacking unless I know it’s permanent. When I was living in the dorms in high school, I never unpacked my boxes since I knew I’d be gone by the end of the year. That mentality stuck with me, so I was able to get my shit and get out quick enough. Even now, I still have boxes in the closest.”

Izaya chuckled. “You’re such a prominent figure in your profession, it’s almost funny to hear you were stuck with such white trash individuals.”

“Oh, it gets even better. Five days after I got my shit and left, my friend—ex-friend now—called me up. She said I could move back in, but my paychecks had to go to her boyfriend without question. I found out through a mutual friend that they couldn’t pay the bills without my salary since neither of them were employed. Boyfriend did under-the-table work for his parents and my friend had just gotten fired a few weeks before I got kicked out. I was the only thing holding them up at the time. I told her to kick bricks.

“Five months later—I was dating Shinju at the time—I got a call from the old apartment complex.” I stirred my drink. “They told me I had to pay for damages to the apartment. We had a long discussion about how my name was taken off the lease because I was kicked out five months ago and was no longer responsible for damages. I don’t know why she forgot that. She was the one who signed my papers. I even showed her the receipt that showed I payed the fee for breaking the lease. By the contract of the apartment, I didn’t get my safety deposit back to pay for breaking the lease. She had no case and left me alone. Then a court hearing was in my mail. I was being sued for damages to the apartment—not by the landlord, but by my old friend. I gathered my evidence and filed a counter-sue for broken personal property and emotional stress.

“During the court case, I found out that the two ‘lovebirds’ had let the house get so fucking bad, the apartment was condemned. Moldy clothes, _clothes!_, on the floor, overflowing litter boxes because they had two cats, the pipes broke and instead of getting it fixed, or going to the supermarket around the corner to use a public restroom, they decided to keep using the toilet so it was flooded with shit and urine, and my ex-friend liked hunting. Yeah. She brought home a deer and had no place to fucking gut and butcher this thing cuz it was an _apartment_, so she did it in the bathtub. The carcass started to mold and rot over. Moldy dishes in the sink, rotten food in the fridge; It was bad. I saw the pictures from the landlord. They got kicked out for late rent—they were three months behind on rent. The three months I was homeless, they hadn’t paid rent. The next two they started getting money in somehow and tried to catch up, but by then it was too late. Landlord had taken them to court for the expenses and they were about ¥1,700,000 ($17,000) in the hole for unpaid rent and property damage. Our rent was only ¥52,800 ($528) so ¥160,000 (1,600) give or take in unpaid rent and fucking _¥1,500,000 ($15,000)_ in property damage.

“Yeah,” I leaned back, crossing my arms and legs. “They got sued by the landlord; they had to write a check that they couldn’t afford to pay. They ended up having to take a loan out to pay the landlord and then they came to me. They tried to sue me for unpaid rent and property damage. They tried to say the moldy clothes were mine; the dishes, the food—it was all mine from when I was living with them. And that I up and baled on them. Shinju and Kuzuhara-san were willing to testify, as police officers, that I was living in my car for the duration of winter and when asked why, I explained that I was kicked out of my apartment. I showed the paperwork where I canceled my lease. The clothes that were molded _were_ mine but that’s because they wouldn’t let me get them. And since they had been in their house for more than a month, it became their property, by law. I also brought up the point that this was five months ago, and the photos the landlord posted were from a month ago, so why the hell hadn’t they cleaned the house out in the four months I was no longer living in the house?

“The judge tore_ into _them.” I smiled. “My ex-friend started crying in the courtroom. They tried to say they had to kick me out because I was a dangerous person. I played it against them, by explaining the truth. That I could _apparently_ see auras. That I was _apparently_ psychic, as ridiculous as that sounded.”

“You made it sound like your friends were the ridiculous one for making such wild accusations. You played it off like you never told them this information and they just came to that conclusion.”

“Yup!”

“That’s quite a manipulation.”

“Yup. If they wanted to lie, I could lie too. The judge was already on my side so playing it up that I not only got kicked out in the middle of winter, but that I got kicked out for such a ridiculous reason really helped me out. And then they had the audacity to sue me for money that was not owed to them. Like, seriously, even if I had up-and-baled on them like they claimed, their case was ‘he doesn’t live with us anymore, but he should have still been paying our rent’. Yeah, no, the judge was not okay with that. On top of the ¥1,700,000 ($17,000), they then had to pay me ¥200,000 ($2,000) for my damage to personal property and emotional damage. The look on my friends face as she wrote me a check. It was priceless. Last I heard, her and the boyfriend—oh, I forgot to mention! They had been dating for about 2 months before they kicked me out. When I started telling her all the stuff he was pulling with her phone and her family, she told me ‘that’s my fiancé so don’t you shit talk him’. They fucking got _engaged_—with no ring, mind you—three months into the relationship. Important detail, as last I heard, my ex-friend is living at home with her parents with a kid. Boyfriend left her. Since her name was on the lease, not his, and she was the one who sued me, not him, she was the one who had to pay for everything. Loving _fiancé_ fucking dumped her ass not long after she lost the lawsuit with me. This was about three years ago too, mind you.”

“Seems like she got a taste of just desserts.”

I smiled. “Best fucking just desserts I ever got to witness. The fact that she destroyed herself all for a pointless man. I was a loyal friend. I gave her good, sensible life advice and she took it as me judging her for drinking, smoking, and cutting in high school. She got friends that told her she was so cool for doing those things. I realize now I should have stopped being her friend long ago. I obviously valued her as a friend more than she valued me. I should have registered she was toxic and stopped being her friend. But I was naïve, young, and stupid.”

“So long as you know it now, you’ll be better educated for the future.”

“I don’t need you to lecture me on that shit. Especially since you made me expose my secret.”

“Isn’t this safer, though? Since I figured it out on my own, you can’t be faulted if I expose it. You can do what you did to your friend, play off that I’m ridiculous.”

I glowered.

“Do you usually vent like this?” Izaya asked.

“No.”

“Then why release such personal information to me?”

“It’s not like that’s information you can use against me. It’s a three-year-old court case; nothing in it is going to hinder my career or current lifestyle.”

“But why tell me at all?”

I shrugged. “I haven’t vented to anyone about that situation before. I didn’t have many friends to begin with and after that I distanced myself from them. So, I guess this is the first time in a while I’ve been able to get it off my chest.”

“Ah, I see.”

I sipped my jet tea.

“So,” Izaya began, “can you explain to me what you can see? Do you see their specific sin? Are there numbers above a person’s head that says how many sins they have? What is it?”

“I wouldn’t need sunglasses for numbers.”

“Then colors maybe? Like people’s auras or something like that?”

“…In a way.” I sipped my drink.

“We’ve worked with each other long enough. Can’t you explain it to me?”

“Are you paying me to tell you?”

“I could.”

I glowered.

“How much would you like for that information?”

I stared at him. “…Never really thought about it, in all honesty.”

“You have a gift and you never thought about how much it’d be worth?”

“No. Why would I? It’s not like I can sell my eyes—”

I immediately cut myself off. That was a very good idea for a crooked individual who didn’t understand the burden behind my eyes. I shouldn’t be giving Izaya such a thought.

The informant must have known what I was thinking, as he just chuckled and smiled. “I’m not going to steal your eyes. Having to wear sunglasses no matter where you’re at would be tedious.”

I glowered.

“You know, I can see you glaring at me. Your sunglasses don’t hide your furrowing brows.”

I glowered still.

“Doesn’t that hurt your forehead? Glaring all day? They say that you’ll wrinkle early from that.”

“Are you done saying stupid shit?”

His smile turned cynical. “Is your new friend okay with you glaring at the time?”

I stiffened, my throat immediately going dry.

“I did some research on him, if you would like to know. I have to say, he isn’t all that interesting, but he must be something special to gather your attention. You seem like a natural pessimist. That’s to be expected with your ability to see people’s dirtiest secrets. So, the fact that you’re holding someone close like that mundane, boring boy; he must be something amazing.”

“You leave him alone.” I growled. “He’s as you said. Boring, mundane, nothing special. So, don’t fuck with him.”

His smile remained cynical. A glint shined in his eyes, a glint that showed his confidence. He got under my skin and he knew it. Now he had leverage over me. He knew that. I knew that. He had more control over me now.

Maybe I should kill him. It would be the easiest form of escape. Because of the lifestyle he lives, no one would bat an eye over his death, and no one would come after me for revenge. It would be my best option.

The idea of murder wasn’t even a thought. Just a fleeting what if. I had never taken a life before and I wasn’t going to change that now. I doubt I even had the stomach for something like that anyway.

“Bill’s on you.” I pushed my chair back.

“Now wait, you need to get paid, right?”

“Give me my pay so I can go.”

“But I want some more information from you.”

“You’re fucking holding everything you needed.”

“I want to know how your eyes work.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why should I tell you shit when you threaten me?”

“I wasn’t threatening. Just idle curiosity.”

“Don’t try to play innocent when we both know that’s what you’re doing. You can blackmail me all you want, but don’t disrespect me by thinking I’m fucking stupid.”

He smiled at me. It was annoying that he seemed to be proud of my statement.

God, I really hated this man.

“Allow me to apologize then.” Izaya smiled up at me. “I didn’t mean to upset you. As for your friend, I have no intention to mess with him. I was just curious what was so special about such a boring kid that it would make you throw away your pessimism.”

“My pessimism is still intact. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be a cunt to you.”

“I guess that’s true. But you tend to hold people at an arm’s length. He’s something special.”

“Not really. I can have friends. I just choose not to.”

“Why? Why him?”

“None of your business.”

“You just shared the lowest point of your life with me, but you can’t share what’s special about that boy?”

“There’s nothing special about him! It’s not like I cut myself off from society and have a profound misanthropy! I’ve dated before, had friends, and talk with people on a daily basis! You’re fucking overthinking everything and making a mountain out of a mole hill and it’s so _fucking **annoying**_!”

“You’re getting heated, Hachimen-san. Calm down.”

“Oh, fuck off with you! Don’t tell me to calm down! That just pisses me off more!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, sure you are.” I sat down, crossed my arm and glared at him. “You like getting under people’s skin to see how they react. This is enjoyable for you.”

His eyes narrowed as his smile wavered. “How do you know that?”

I felt a cynical happiness fill me chest. the same cynical that he had felt just a moment ago. “What, you think I wouldn’t investigate the motherfucker blackmailing me? I know a lot about you. Your family life, your stay at juvi, how you got in touch with your most prominent client: the Awakusu-kai. I even know about a certain item in your inventory that you got from the old head of a pharmaceutical company.”

His smile turned into a frown as his eyes narrowed in a glare. It was only for a moment however. He very quickly put his mask back on, smiling at me. But his eyes weren’t smiling now. There was a hatred starting to form in his russet orbs.

“Fuck with me. I dare you.” I grinned.

“I may have underestimated you a bit.”

“No shit. I can see more than you can. You’re obviously at a disadvantage.”

“Touché.”

A silence stretched between us. I wasn’t sure if it was an awkward silence or just the two of us trying to intimidate each other. I didn’t really care to figure out what it was. I just wanted to leave. Tsukishima was going to be done with his college classes soon and I wanted to see him. Obviously, the innocent blonde was more preferable as company in comparison to this cunt.

“Let’s drop this subject in particular.” Izaya said. “I would like to know how your eyes work.”

“Why?”

“Because they seem to be useful. I don’t intend to take your eyes or anything like that. You don’t need to worry about such a thing. I just want to know the fundamental’s behind your eyes.”

“Why?”

“…The baseline is, I’m curious. I want to know. You’re able to know peoples sins to the point you can make such a detailed report.” He put the papers back in the folder. “I want to know how they work. Can you see my sins? Can you see everything I’ve done wrong? Or do you just have a general idea and you’re just very capable at information gathering?”

I was quiet for a moment. I was debating if I should tell him or not. There could be some harm by telling someone like him this kind of information. He may not want my eyes but someone else might. Someone that he works with. It was a risk.

But then again, I had never told _anyone _about how my eyes work. Not even my mother. There was an urge to tell _someone_ the truth.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Do I have your word that this information stays between us?”

“Of course. I always keep my information confidential.”

“Unless someone buys it off you.”

“I have no one who would buy that kind of information on you. Your address, your photo, probably how you’re so good at your job. But I wouldn’t need to explain your eyes to explain how you’re so capable. They wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

I was quiet for a moment. Then I growled. I let it out in a sigh and glanced around. I spotted something and tilted my glasses down.

“You see that florist across the street?”

He looked over. We stared at a woman in her 40’s or 50’s pruning some flowers in front of the shop. Her hair was put up, she was wearing a skirt and an apron. She looked like a gentle grandmother.

“What about her?” Izaya asked.

“Her sin is lust.”

Izaya’s brows rose with surprise.

“There are about three options as to why that is. Do you think you can name them?”

“…Maybe, when she was younger, she was wild and crazy. Or she’s the horny librarian type. Or…I’m not sure what the third option could be.”

“You’re actually right about your two guesses. Her sin won’t disappear unless she tries to atone for it, which isn’t something I can see. So, she could have been a skank in her youth. Or she’s a wild and horny bitch now. The third option is she’s devoted to her work.”

Izaya cocked a brow and finally looked back at me. “That’s a sin? What’s wrong with liking her job?”

“That’s not what I said. You can like your job without it being a sin. What is a sin is if you devote your life to your work and nothing else. Say, if she owns that flower shop instead of working there, she may have spent her whole life trying to get that shop. She never lived life for any other reason but getting that shop. No social life, no romantic interests, nothing but those flowers.”

“I would think that’s greed, isn’t it?”

“Nope. It’s lust. She’s got overflowing passion that can’t be quenched.”

“Passion isn’t a bad thing.”

“Again, it depends. Actually, I should point out. There are two sides to every coin that is a sin—‘cept for betrayal and limbo. There’s nothing redeemable about betrayal and limbo. Betrayal is the most damaging thing one can do to a person that trusted them and limbo is where all the sheep’s who can’t develop an original thought go. The seven deadly sins have a positive and negative side, both can be considered a sin. Um, here, give me that folder.”

He obliged. I pulled a miniature notebook out of my pocket. In the metal spiral was a pen, which I tugged out. I wrote down on the back of the folder.

Lust --> Perversion V Passion

Gluttony --> Intemperance V Indulgence

Greed --> Avarice V Hope

Wrath --> Revenge V Justice

Sloth --> Lazy V Patience

Envy --> Jealousy V Admiration

Pride --> Arrogance V Honor

I put the folder down and slid it back to him. He picked it up and looked at it.

“Both are considered a sin to an extent. As you can probably see, there are positive sides to the sins but that positive can turn negative if you put too much into them. A woman who only works on her dream that she never lives, relaxes, and appreciates her life is a passionate sin of lust. A man whose wife’s in the hospital hopes that she’ll pull through, only to throw everything away to try and keep her alive—prolonging her suffering—was devoured by too much hope and thus fell into greed. On the opposite end, a man can kill someone so long as it was through justice and not revenge. It won’t count as a sin like that. For instance, if a man killed a pedophile because there wasn’t enough evidence to get the pedo off the streets, it wouldn’t be a sin. If a man killed a pedophile because the pedo molested his child or he wanted to ‘kill the filthy animal’, it would be a sin of wrath.”

“Isn’t intemperance and indulgence the same thing?”

“Nope. Intemperance, the dictionary definition is the lack of moderation or restraint. Indulgence is the action or fact of enjoying the pleasure of something. You’re allowed to like something without question. It’s when you like it more than anything else, it become a problem. For instance, you’re allowed to indulge in chocolate. But if you decide to eat chocolate over a healthy meal, that’s intemperance and that’s a sin.”

“Hm…” He looked over the list again. “When does admiration become a sin?”

“I’m sure you can figure that out yourself.”

“I can but I want to hear it from the professional.”

“I’m not a professional. I’ve had these eyes since birth. I’ve had twenty-three years to figure out this philosophy and understand the difference between sin and saints.”

“You’re quite humble about this subject.”

I just shrugged.

“Well, my theory is, admiration becomes a sin when you start copying the person you admire. You start dressing like them, changing your hair to be like theirs, mirroring their social skills and speech patterns.”

“You’d be right.”

Izaya smiled. “Let’s backtrack a bit. What about that florist? What’s her lustful sin out of those three options?”

“I don’t know.”

Izaya cocked a brow. “How come?”

“Because I can’t see what she did specifically. All I can see is her sin is lust. No violence behind the act, no betrayal. It’s just straight lust. Ergo, I can conclude that her sin is most-likely a pure form where her passion is all she cares about, or a debaucherous lifestyle where she has constant one-night stands with no strings attached. The fact that theirs no betrayal shows she never broke anyone’s heart knowingly. She never broke up with someone for the sake of her passion. Nor stepped on someone else in order to get ahead with her goal. Now, she also had a wedding ring on. She’s married, but again, there’s no betrayal, meaning she hasn’t cheated on her husband. With that, I can conclude her lustful sin is due to passion. Thus, she’s a workaholic.”

“…You deduced that so quickly.”

“I’ve been doing this for years.”

“Hm. How can you tell there’s no betrayal in her sin?”

“Because I can.”

He chuckled. “You won’t explain how you do it?”

“I gave a good example, didn’t I? My ability to see is only a stepping stone. I only have a basic idea of what they’re doing wrong. The rest I need to figure out. As you said, I’m just capable at information gathering. Someone like her wouldn’t be worth looking into since she’s simple to figure out.”

“Then what about someone like me?”

“Oh, you’re a sociopath.”

“…Is sociopathy a sin?”

“Duh.”

“No, I mean, you named the seven deadly sin, betrayal and limbo. Is sociopathy one of those?”

“Oh. No. It’s not. What I see follows the sins of Dante’s Inferno, the nine layers of hell. The seven deadly sins, limbo and betrayal.”

“Then how do you know I’m a sociopath?”

“That was an educated guess. I’ve never seen sin like yours, so I just put two and two together. I’ve seen psychopath’s and theirs is just straight wrath. Yours is betrayal.”

He smiled as he cocked a brow. He tilted his head. He looked almost cute like that.

“Betrayal is usually a pig-back sin. I have never seen betrayal on its own. Lust is cheating. Gluttony, Envy, and Greed are stealing. Wrath is beatings. Sloth is disinterest. Pride is usually egotism. Limbo is cowardice. But to have betrayal with no attachment. I’ve never seen it. I figured out you were a sociopath by your behavior.”

“You’re dancing around the answer. Are you saying my sin is straight betrayal?”

“Yeah. Sorry about the exposition. Your sin is betrayal with no other sin to piggy-back on. That means you lie and manipulate without a conscious a lot. You never slept with someone to use them. You never attacked someone who trusted you. You didn’t steal for yourself to feed your avarice or gluttony or jealousy. Even your pride doesn’t dictate your acts of betrayal. You lie for the sake of lying. You manipulate just to use people and nothing more. That stands to reason, you don’t have friends or a deep connection to your family. You must live a very lonely existence.”

“I am quite content with my lifestyle. I don’t feel lonely at all.” He smiled almost happily.

“Hm. Are you a virgin?”

“…What does that have to do with anything?”

“Curiosity to a theory. So, are you?”

“…No, I am not.”

I tilted my glasses down to stare at his aura. The black didn’t change in mass and a lie like that would have been piggy-backed on pride. No purple came into view. He was telling the truth.

“Huh, interesting.” I pushed my glasses back up.

“What?”

“So, you have had sex. But there’s no lust. Ergo, you didn’t have sex to fuel your perversion. You did it to get rid of your sexual needs at that point in time. It’s possible that you had a one-night stand, she asked to meet up again, and you ‘betrayed’ her feelings by saying she wasn’t that important for a second time or something. I could see you doing something like that.”

“…And that was just an educated guess?”

“Yup.” I sipped my jet tea.

“…Hm.”

“Again, I’ve had these eyes since birth. To figure someone out based on their sin is pretty easy by now.”

“But you’ve never met someone with my sin.” He stated that almost matter-of-factly, without question.

“No. Not the way you have it. Again, betrayal is usually piggy-backed. But you’re not piggy-backing anything. You just betray people for a living. You lie and manipulate and nothing else. That’s why I don’t believe jack shit that you say.”

“Well, playing devils advocate, if all I’ve ever done is betray, then it can stand to reason that I’m also an honest person.”

I cocked a brow. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I don’t know if you can tell how many sins I have. You say you can’t see what I did to earn the sin, but you can see what the sin is. So, I think I can stand to reason your ability might be based off of words, colors, or mass. If its colors, then that would explain why you say betrayal is a ‘piggy-back’ sin. If say, it’s a form of seeing someone’s aura and that aura is a specific color of sin with stains of betrayal on them, then that would explain some of the things you’ve said—despite you attempting to be vague. It would also explain why you have to wear sunglasses. Aura’s must be very bright and blinding so you won’t be able to see street lights or other people through the kaleidoscope of colors.”

My eyes narrowed. He stared at me before smiling happily.

“This is all in theory though. And only one possible idea. Again, it could be words or mass as well. If its words, then you could see lust and betrayal above a person’s head. I’m not holding much merit on that since you said numbers wouldn’t lead to your use of sunglasses. So maybe it’s mass. Like orbs of light that grow and grow based on the sin.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I growled and sipped my jet tea.

“I would, actually, but you don’t seem to trust me.”

“Again, you’re nothing but a lying, manipulative, traitor.”

“But that’s the point I was trying to make. If your abilities are based on mass, and you said you can’t see someone’s redeemable qualities—just their sins—then it’s possible that I’m actually a very honest person whose only sin has been betrayal every once in a while. If my betrayal sin is a small dot, then doesn’t that stand to reason I tell the truth more often than not?”

I glared at him. Then I pushed my glasses down. I had noticed that the black wasn’t nearly as big as it could be for someone like him. A scheming, conniving man who enjoyed other peoples suffering. It should be much bigger if he truly was an evil person. It was annoying but he wasn’t wrong. He was a relatively honest person because the mark of betrayal wasn’t that big. Unless his betrayal wasn’t huge acts. Smalls white lies that accumulated to that huge amount. That was possible true. The sour truth of it was I didn’t know. And I wouldn’t know unless I did more research.

But then again, I already knew the truth.

I pushed my glasses back up. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re a traitor. Your sin may not be very big, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t done my research on you—like I said. I know better than to trust you.”

“So, I was right. It’s based on mass.”

“To know how much that person has drabbling in that sin, yes. But the mass doesn’t dictate what sin.”

“Then what does?”

“None of your business.”

Izaya chuckled. “You know, one day, I’ll get you to tell me. I’ll earn your trust.”

“Or you’ll threaten me to relay the information.”

“I doubt threatening you would work. You haven’t taken to it very kindly so far.”

“How many people do you know that would take to threats kindly?”

“You take it more calmly, which is actually a bit more worrisome. See, the usual response is retaliation through words or actions. A threat back or a punch. But you took it in stride. You don’t like it, you make it apparent you don’t like it, but you don’t do anything to change it.”

“You’re not worth the effort.”

Izaya cocked a brow. “Is that really the reason?”

“Yup. I know when I’m cornered. But I also know how to disappear before someone realizes I’m not in the corner anymore. Your threats become moot if I fall off your radar. I’m more than capable of doing that, even with your skills and resources. It wouldn’t have taken too much effort on my part.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I found a reason to stay. And because of that, I have to let you manipulate me until I find another alternative to get you to fuck off. Technically, I already have that alternative. After all, if a _certain someone _found out about the item in your possession from the _head _of that pharmaceutical company, your whole plan goes up in smoke. You’d be too busy with that mess to come after me and I’d make sure of it. But that takes more effort than I’m willing to exert.” I sipped my drink. “It’s just easier to let you play your game and live on with my reason to stay in Tokyo.”

“Sounds like your sin is sloth.”

“Nah. I couldn’t be a PI if I was slothful. You’re just not worth the effort needed to get away from you. You’re not that big of a threat and all you want to do is play around with the freak of nature that can see people’s sins. Nothing special.”

Izaya’s façade fell for a moment. For a moment, he glared at me with enough hate to kill. For a moment, I saw the look in his eyes and knew his thought process. Not because I’m some mind reading psychic. But because for that split second, he became predictable. He quickly grinned to hide that.

“If you prove to me that you’re an actual threat, that’s a mark of pride on your aura. I don’t really care what you do, but if you want to keep your pure black, you should quell whatever thoughts your having. It’s not like I’m a big threat to you either so letting your pride speak over your brain is a waste of your skills.”

His eyes narrowed again. This time, he didn’t try to hide it behind a smile. He was pissed. That made me happy.

“You don’t like being observed, do you?” I sipped my drink.

“…Not particularly, no.”

“I’ll remember that from now on. I don’t want you to ruin my peaceful days over petty shit.”

“You’re very selfish, aren’t you? Despite being so nonchalant, everything you’ve said has been about whether it affects you or not.”

“Everyone’s priority should be themselves.” I fiddled with my straw, looking down at my drink. “Over other people, over places or objects. Humanity has a funny way of forgetting that for the sake of others or for the greater good. It’s not bad to be brave or anything, or to be caring, but worrying too much about others will only drive you down into a hole. I will admit, I am a selfish person. I’m prideful, hateful, lazy and gluttonous. I’m even jealous of you, who is able to go outside without sunglasses—who can see the world without filters. And I can be quite the pervert. I go with the flow to remain in my limbo, and as my story proved, I’ll betray my friends if they burn me first. I’m balanced with my sins and because of that, I can live a life I’m content with. Maybe I’m just babbling at this point,” I looked up at him. “But my point is, I haven’t come this far by worrying about others first.”

Izaya’s smile returned. He grinned with a glee that didn’t make sense to me. “You’re a beautiful example of the most wretched people humanity has to offer. I’d love to hear more about your philosophies, your way of life. Forget your eyes, forget whatever led you to have these eyes. I want to know more about the magnificent specimen before me!”

…Huh, that’s weird. That was obviously a statement of passion. But no pink came into view on his aura. That sounded quite perverse, the way he talked about humanity as if he wasn’t one. I’ve known about his ‘people love’ from some interviews I’ve done but seeing it was a different thing. This was a very passionate obsession he had, yet his aura still showed black betrayal.

Did that mean, his love for humanity was pure?

“By the way,” Izaya smiled at me, “You mentioned a few things that peaked my interest.”

“…Make it snappy. I need to go soon.”

“Your brash personality is starting to show some charm. Maybe it’s just because you’re growing on me.”

“Don’t flirt with me. It’s gross.”

“I’m not flirting, but I’ll take that into consideration. Anyhow, making it snappy~! You mentioned my sin was black.”

Wait, did I mention that? I don’t remember saying that.

“So, I was right about you seeing in shades of colors. I don’t get why you wanted to be vague about something so insignificant, but I’ll put that under duress for now. Secondly, you say you’ve done all this research on me, yet you say I’m not a threat nor worth the effort to get away from. That leads me to assume you don’t understand the gravity of the situation, or you’re used to worse things than me.”

Duh. He wasn’t the worse human I’ve come across.

“I’d like to hear more on that subject another time. Lastly, I think it would beneficial to both you and I if we dropped the threats all together. If my threats aren’t worth anything to you anyway, why don’t you work for me because you want to, not because you have to?”

“And get dragged into whatever scheme you’re pulling? Fat chance.”

“But if you and I are equals, then I’ll take just as much damage if you get burnt.”

“We’re not equals, and you know it. You can’t look at anyone as your equal, especially not a freak like me.”

“Well, you’re the one who can see sins. Tell me, did I lie to you then?”

I glowered. But I played his game and pushed my sunglasses down. His mass hadn’t changed. My glower turned into a glare as I pushed my glasses back up.

“Just because you’re not lying now doesn’t mean you won’t change your mind in the future.” I pushed my chair back. “I’m leaving.”

“It would be beneficial for your Tsukishima friend as well.”

I stiffened just from mere mention of his name from those poisonous lips.

“If you and I were working together instead of you being under my thumb, I could make sure Tsukishima-kun doesn’t get involved. Whereas, the way we stand now, I can’t guarantee your protection since I know little about you. If you get attacked by someone I can’t control, then I can’t help you, nor Tsukishima-kun.”

I clenched my teeth. “You think pretty words will convince me?”

“Again, am I lying?”

I didn’t bother pushing my glasses down to look. I knew the truth.

I growled. Then pushed off the table to stand. “I’ll consider it. But don’t hold your breath.”

He smiled at me. God, that grin was so irritating. He’s lucky he’s attractive else he’d never make a deal in his life. I grabbed my jet tea and pushed my chair in with my foot.

“Oh, one more thing.” Izaya said.

I glowered at him.

“You mentioned before you could be quite the pervert. Does that mean you can sleep with others without fear of consequence, or you can be quite a whorish individual?”

I cocked a brow in confused. Why would he want to know that? “Depends. What’s it to you?”

“So, if I asked you to a one-night stand, would you deny me?”

My eyes widened. That’s not something I was expecting from him. Was he just testing me? Playing with me? He wasn’t the type to ask out of the blue like this, was he? Actually, what’s more important was is he okay with a man as his partner? Japan may be filled with gay-love but it was rarely practiced since it was still considered a taboo.

Wait, he wasn’t a conventional individual so he wouldn’t have conventional morals. Stands to reason he’d be open-minded to gay love. But why me? I’ve been nothing but a righteous cunt to him. Maybe he wanted to enjoy a good hate fucking?

Or maybe he just wanted to see how low my morals were.

If that’s the case, then it sucks to be him since…

“If you give me your actual number and not your business phone, I can keep you posted on that.” My expression softened slightly.

My morals are everchanging.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a scene that would be In The Eye of the Beholder if I made it a full-fledged story. When I get some projects done, I think I'll flesh this tale out but for now, enjoy some snipits.  
Thanks for reading! Kudo, comment, all that jazz. Hope to see you in the next one.  
KCK


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